Feathers
by Crystal Kira
Summary: Arthur Kirkland was the most powerful hunter in the world, or so it was rumored. But this time, he made the worst of mistakes, and got far too attached to his target. Regret makes a man rash, and he will do anything to undo the murder he committed- even if it means possibly getting slain himself, by the best friend he'd killed. And yet... angels forgive, don't they? EngIta, AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This picture was inspired by a piece of work on deviantART by janikol, and the piece is titled "Why can't we be together?" It's very beautiful, I recommend you search it and look at it before you read this fic. A part of it is used as cover art for this fic, as well, but it's much better to see the whole thing with all its details. (I may put a link in my profile, to it.)**

**This chapter is a prologue to what will be a short, but complete fic. (Around 2-4 chapters total.) It centers around the premise of Arthur being a magical creatures hunter, and Feliciano being an angel.**

**The entirety of this fic is already written, and segments of it will be uploaded every couple of days, so I have time to edit and add in some last bits before they're posted. This fic was previously posted on my Tumblr blog.**

**With that, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Feliciano tried to flap his wings and escape, but no matter where he went, he was blocked. He was being weakened, drained of energy. There was a forcefield blocking his escape and draining away his power- this was…!

…an angel trap…

Feliciano's eyes widened in panic as he realized what was going on. "A-Artie?" Arthur's hand trembled briefly as he pulled out the blade, stepping into the small cage. Feliciano knew, at that moment, that he was doomed.

"W-Why would… someone w-want me… dead?" Feliciano whispered, in fear, as the pieces fell into place. He trembled, backing up against the invisible wall.

"Your feathers, of course. The most beautiful the world has ever seen, actually. You have a high price on your wings," Arthur hummed, stepping closer.

"No! You're lying- you-!" Feliciano's tears ran down his cheeks as he shrieked, "I _trusted_ you! I- I thought-"

"-that we were friends? Sorry, love. You're another job of mine," Arthur interrupted. The lines were rehearsed, well-practiced. He had said them many times before, to his past hunts. That was always the plan. Find an angel, the target, a specific one if required, and befriend them. Lure them into a false sense of security, then trap, kill, and feather them.

Just another few steps, and the blade was plunged through Feliciano's stomach and spine, the blade dripping with blood as it went out the other side. Feliciano gave a pained cry, but didn't fight back. He must have known there was no use in trying. (Part of the angel's mind begged that this might still be a nightmare, and not reality.)

Instead, the angel wrapped his arms around his friend, and clung to him, weeping as he felt his life slipping away. Even now, he refused to stop believing in Arthur, refused to stop believing that they were friends. It showed.

"W-Why can't we just be together…? I don't understand, Arthur… Why?" The angel whimpered, crying and clinging to him even as he ran an angel blade through his torso. The anguish was visible in every fiber of his being, from his tearful eyes to his trembling body, the weak sobs and bloody coughs that wracked the small body.

"I-I thought we were friends, I… I…" Feliciano whimpered, quivering. Even now, with a blade through his body, he just wanted to be with Arthur. "…love…"

Arthur Kirkland could not bear to hear those words from his friend's mouth. He couldn't let Feliciano finish that sentence- not now. He couldn't.

And so, he wrapped his free arm around Feliciano's shoulders, and felt the angel relax and quiet down, voice trailing off feebly.

It was running out of breath, running out of energy, now. The rain was soaking them both, but he couldn't care, right now. Arthur lowered the weak body down gently, with more care than he'd ever given any of his hunts before. He held him carefully in his arms, and looked down at the angel's heartbroken amber eyes as they shut, feeling the angel's words stabbing him in the heart. As Feliciano's eyes shut, his breathing ceased and his body went limp, leaving Arthur to shakily lower the dead body to the wet earth and stand, looking down at his newest hunt.

'Why?' the angel had asked. As Arthur watched the ethereal, heavenly glow fade from the angel's body, he found that he didn't quite know anymore.

What was he doing?

Why had he... when had he become a person like this? A person capable of killing his best friend?

He shook his head, pretending the tears on his face were just more of the raindrops falling from the sky.

It was just another angel, he told himself. Just another angel, another paycheck.

So why was he falling to his knees now, tears staining his cheeks as he prayed?

* * *

Time had passed. He was- well, he wasn't going to lie- wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. Angel feathers sold for hundreds or thousands, after all, and that angel had so _many_… He lived comfortably, with everything that he'd ever wanted. He had gained all he'd set out to gain.

But sometimes, on rainy days, he looks at a few of the feathers he kept for himself, and wonders what he has lost.


	2. Egg

**A/N: As promised, it's been a few days, so here's the next part of this short story.**

**Review replies:**

**Insertkawaiiname- It might be a bit sad and serious for the most part, but I assure you it won't _stay_ that way.**

**Cecilia- I'm glad you like it so far! I tend to ship Feliciano with everyone, too, so I love exploring different pairings in different settings.**

**On we go!**

* * *

The months passed, and he realized, that yes, he had lost something- no, some_one_- precious, and regret and guilt began to seep into his very bones, making him feel lethargic, unfeeling, unwanting.

He hadn't gone on a single hunt since Feliciano.

He hadn't needed to, of course, but… something about the experience had shaken him to his very core.

He did not _want_ to hunt, not anymore.

He even dreamed, sometimes.

Dreamed of bright amber eyes that would suddenly be clouded and dimmed by pain and betrayal, filled with bitter tears as blood flowed from a wound in his stomach.

Dreamed of pure white feathers now stained by blood, swirling around him and littering the rain-dampened ground.

Dreamed of lifting the body of a friend and carrying it away to strip the wings on that body of its feathers.

So many feathers…

And soon after that was done, the angel's body began to fade before his very eyes, fading into cruel oblivion.

Angels' bodies only lasted such a short time after being killed- it's why hunters who were able to quickly gather body parts from them were paid even more. But this time, Arthur only took feathers, and a lock of hair.

That lock of hair remained in a tiny bag, tucked away in the safest of places in his home.

And sometimes, from the feathers he wore around his neck, he heard the faintest whisper.

_Please…_

_Please…_

The whispers and begging grew too great for his guilt-burdened mind to bear, and he knew he had to do something, anything that would atone for what he'd done.

Arthur's pursuits took a turn, and he set to studying more complicated magicks, ancient and lost lore, forbidden spells and ingredients for potions that were near impossible to attain.

The work, ingredients, and research would take incredible hard work, and massive amounts of travel- but Arthur was willing to make the journey. He had to fight so many creatures along the way, but he had to, to be able to reach his goal.

So, after entrusting his pet cat to a neighbor for the meantime, he set off.

* * *

A year later, the fruits of his labor would finally be apparent.

To bring the essence of an angel back to its body… and to bring that body back with it: both tasks were monumentally difficult, but Arthur Kirkland, famed and renowned hunter of all kinds of magical beasts and creatures and beings, was not an ordinary man.

_It might not work_, he thought to himself, as he combined all the ingredients carefully into a cauldron fashioned from pearl, another aspect of the spell, and he murmured ancient syllables rarely uttered today. No one bothered to bring back an angel after they'd murdered it, after all. It was far too dangerous a move.

The mage did not care.

He was down to the last ingredients, now, after days of brewing…

A feather from the fallen angel.

A strand of its hair.

And blood from the one who'd slain it.

Arthur dropped the first two in, stirring them into the murky mixture, before nicking his own fingertip, letting the scarlet drops of his blood fall into the swirling cauldron and making the liquid inside start to glow and change, turning it from an inky blank to a beautiful, pearly white.

He stepped back.

It was now or never… and he begged that it would work.

A last incantation- no, a _prayer_- and the glow became blinding, and he heard the sound of the cauldron tipping over as its pearly-white contents bubbled out, as if having a mind of its own, forming a rough sphere. That sphere looked so very much like a massive pearl, and it only continued to grow in size, growing and growing until the shape changed and instead of a sphere, there was a pearly egg nestled upright on the ground beside the tipped cauldron.

The massive egg, now at least six feet tall and five feet across at the widest point, was ever-so-slightly transparent, and Arthur stepped closer warily as he attempted to look through the semi-clear surface.

Inside the pearly creation was a curled up angel, with reddish-auburn hair, wings lacking feathers, and a wound in its stomach- a wound that was slowly, slowly healing.

So Arthur let out a shaking breath, and fell to his knees, one hand on the surface of the egg as he rested his forehead against the cool surface.

Feliciano was there, in that egg.

It had _worked_.

Just a week- right?

A week to heal the wound, and the egg would "hatch."

And Feliciano would be back.

* * *

He didn't take into account that angel eggs needed incubation.

At the end of the day, when he saw the shell blackening and cracking, he began to panic, and rushed through any textbooks he had, all while conjuring fruitless spells in attempts to preserve it.

Earth, water, fire, air, lightning, light.

Six possible incubations for angel eggs, but each angel was borne of a different element, and oh, how would he discover which it was in time? How could he conjure lightning to repeatedly strike the egg- how could he bury it in the earth in time, how could he submerge it in water or engulf it in flame, or bathe it in heavenly light when it was the middle of the night? There were so many different possible things to try, and he barely had enough magic left for even a few spells.

Had it been an air-egg, it wouldn't have needed anything else- but the shell was blackening, flaking, and it wasn't an air-egg and it was going to _die and wither_ if he didn't figure this out soon.

He racked his brain for any clues- _good God, Kirkland,_ _you were his __**friend**_- he cursed himself, struggling to recall even the minor details about the angel he had killed.

_I don't deserve to call him a friend._

But he remembered, now: the way Feliciano loved to run and fly about in the rain, the way he'd dive into lakes and rivers without a care about wetting his wings, the way he'd rush into the wet sand at the ocean and just enjoy the water lapping at his feet.

Feliciano, so intrinsically tied to the aquatic element, was borne of the sea, wasn't he?

So he conjured a pond, carving out the earth with what was left of his magic and filling it with the purest of water. With a glowing hand, lifted the blackening egg, and lowered it into the water, utterly exhausting the last of his energy and hoping that this was the right choice, because he had no magic to spare after such panic and toil.

When he saw the egg begin to turn pearly white once more, the cracks melting back into smooth shell, he fell once more to the ground, exhausted and feeling himself so drained, that he was tempted to sleep right there beside the pool.

And so he did.

He had used so much of his magic and his energy in the last week, hell, over the last _year_, that he was on the verge of collapse after so much stress and toil. But despite his exhaustion, he managed to do one last thing. The last thing he did before passing out was lower his hand into the cool water, just to feel a bit closer to the egg- and his eyes slid shut.

He dreamt.

* * *

"You're a right idiot, Art," was the first thing Arthur heard when he awoke. A heavy, Scottish accent affected the words spoken to him as he sat up, confused and lost. His cat Crumpet as curled up on a cushion nearby, looking rather pleased to be back at his own home. What? Who had picked Crumpet up from his neighbor's? When did Arthur get inside, or onto his couch? When did his older brother get here- wait, _why was Iain here?! Dear god get out_-!

But before he could reflexively snap at his brother for the insult, his face paled and his eyes widened, and Arthur rushed, "Who's with-"

"I put up wards around it, it'll be fine," Iain interrupted, sipping at some whiskey as he lounged in one of Arthur's living room chairs. "Want to explain to me why I found you unconscious, near an angel-egg's incubation pool? Do you realize what you've _done_, you moron? You've hunted down an angel and brought it back, it'll _kill you _once it hatches!" Iain hissed, setting down the glass in his hand as he pinned Arthur with a dark, serious look.

Arthur wanted to go right back to sleep.

"He wouldn't," Arthur replied, and it was so resolute that Iain scoffed.

"You've gone soft."

"You don't know Feliciano."

Iain's expression changed. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he gave a low groan, a hand rubbing at his temple. "You don't know he won't kill you. Hell, don't tell me you've _fallen_ for the thing."

Arthur shot up so quickly, he nearly collapsed again from the strain on his exhausted body. "He was my _friend_."

"You were his _murderer, _Art, he won't see it that way!"

There was a beat of silence, and Arthur felt himself deflate, before slumping back down onto his couch.

"I had to _try_."

Arthur was too tired to even be angry at the pitying way Iain was looking at him.

"He won't forgive you. How do you think you're going to explain yourself? That is, if he _gives_ you a chance to. 'I killed you for money, but I brought you back, so we're good now, right?' Is that what you intend to say?" Iain growled next. "Because no matter how much you try to sugar-coat it, Arthur, that angel will only see truth. And the truth was, you went into it with money on your mind, and when you had the chance to turn back, you didn't." Iain's tone lowered, and Arthur felt himself feeling even weaker.

"_You. Murdered. It._"

"_Stop calling him an 'it'!"_ And Arthur's roar was so fierce that it caught Iain off guard, and Iain was stunned into silence.

There was a long and tense silence, and then Iain sighed.

"You've become a sorry sight," he said, before murmuring, "But at least you've finally stopped hunting, so I suppose I can't complain."

Arthur didn't reply.

"…I'm staying for when he hatches," Iain said quietly after the silence.

"I don't need your help."

"Yes, you will. Unlike you, I _get along_ with angels," Iain scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back into the chair. "And even the angriest one won't harm an innocent."

"Righteous bastard."

"You're welcome."

They each retired to their own rooms in the house, quietly mulling over the egg just outside, harboring a healing angel whose behavior upon hatching would be unpredictable, at best.

There was only a short while left until the egg would hatch.


	3. Broken Trust

**A/N: It's been a few days, so here's the next update.**

**Review reply to Asta la Pasta: I'm surprised you find it cute, but I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

Arthur checked on the egg three times a day, and he could see the wound in Feliciano's stomach healing up more and more, although his naked wings had yet to grow back any feathers. They were budding, in some places, but those would likely take weeks to grow back even after hatching from the egg.

He wasn't sure if he was upset, or glad, that the egg hatched while Iain was away running some errands of his own.

It started when he caught the glow from the pond and rushed out, standing at the water's edge as he watched the curled-up body in the egg unfold and stretch, arms reaching out and upwards as the angel swam up. Feliciano broke the surface and took a breath, amber eyes opening as he felt the sunlight on his skin. Feliciano was gasping, still wide-eyed and panicked and shaking as his mind and memory was still stuck in that horrid moment of rain and blood and the glint of a knife- but he realized he was no longer in that angel trap, and he scrambled out of the water, shaking, trying to wrap himself in his wings only to find that his feathers were gone, and they offered him no warmth, no cover.

Where was he?

He heard approaching footsteps, and suddenly tensed, wings wrapping more around him as an instinctive defense- and then he saw Arthur, approaching slowly with his hands up, palms out in an attempt at an appeasing and calming gesture. Feliciano's eyes widened, and fear ran through him at the sight of his killer, the person he'd believed to be his friend, the person he'd _lov-_no.

No. No, no, no…

That man in front of him was a liar. The man he might've trusted, _might_ have loved, could have easily been a fake persona put up to fool him.

This man…

Had he still had his feathers, they would've been bristling, puffing up to make himself look bigger, to show his growing anger.

All the hurt, all the pain, all the fear, slowly turning into something else.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Feliciano," Arthur said softly, as he walked towards him, and Feliciano felt his self-restraint _snap_.

Before Arthur had a chance to cast a spell, Feliciano used magic of his own to lash out, knocking Arthur right off his feet and flat onto his back on the earth. He threw a spell of his own from his dripping wet hands, running over and slamming a grey sphere of energy right into Arthur's chest, one that made Arthur gasp and then cry out in _agony_.

The feeling of having all your energy in your body _freeze_, leaving you incapable of using any magic, was _excruciating_ and Arthur could feel it burning where the flowing energy should have been moving and constantly rushing and instead it was _frozen and overheating at once and it felt like hell-_

"_How __**dare**__ you,"_ Feliciano hissed, the warm honey-amber gaze gone and replaced by a hardened, cold, _angry_ glare. "_How __**dare **__you say that after what you did to me_."

But despite his anger, there were tears in those fury-filled eyes, and Arthur could see them so clearly.

Feliciano had always been such a gentle angel.

"_I __**trusted**__ you! I trusted you, I trusted you, I __**trusted**__ you-!"_ And it was a furious but pained cry accompanied by punch after punch.

To see him like this made Arthur's heart clench with guilt, and when Feliciano struck his jaw with a fist, he heard the bone of his jaw snap, and he screamed. A fist to his sternum, and another, until he felt himself coughing and wheezing and feeling blood out of his lips, another punch to his face that gave him a black eye, and yet another punch, another, another.

When Feliciano realized that Arthur hadn't even tried to fight back, his fingers clenched fists into Arthur's shirt and he shook, furious and angry but _pained_ as tears fell from his eyes onto Arthur's bruising cheeks.

The next time Feliciano said it, it was a broken whisper. "I-I trusted you."

"I'm sorry," Arthur breathed out, weak from the pain of frozen magic and the beatings to his face and chest. "I… regretted it… since that moment." His breathing was labored, and he struggled to speak. He swallowed his pride, only for Feliciano.

He needed to tell him the truth. He hoped Feliciano would listen.

Feliciano faltered.

"H-How can I believe that?" And Feliciano slapped him, more tears still rolling down his cheeks. "_Everything I thought I knew about you was a lie! _You lied to me! You faked being my friend, you faked your interest in learning about me and my family and life, you used every bit of information against me and _killed_ me!" Another slap, another, another.

Feliciano wanted to stop, but he was so _frustrated_, and the fury wouldn't cease.

Arthur took blow after blow, not struggling, not fighting, not defending himself.

He knew he deserved it.

"I didn't fake being your friend," Arthur coughed out when Feliciano paused his blows.

"_Friends don't __**kill friends for money**_!" Feliciano screeched, and set to striking him again, and again.

Feliciano wasn't stupid- he could see just from the lack of feathers on his wings, this new home in a peaceful forest isolated from the bustling town far down the road. Arthur had money that he didn't have before.

Money he'd won from selling his feathers.

But Feliciano's blind rage and fury had to end somewhere, his furious fists and strikes slowing down as he felt his limbs start to tremble instead. The rage had been replaced by pain once more, and he couldn't even bring himself to raise a hand against Arthur again- not when Arthur was just _taking it_ like that.

Feliciano broke altogether, weeping softly as he sat on Arthur's stomach, still pinning him down.

He knew Arthur could easily throw his weight off if he'd wanted to, but Arthur hadn't moved a muscle.

But when Arthur lifted a hand to try and cup his cheek, Feliciano grabbed his wrist with a nearly crushing grip, hand still trembling even with the tension of holding him.

"Don't touch me."

Arthur's arm went limp, and Feliciano let go, watching as Arthur's arm obediently fell to the earth again.

Feliciano's shaking breaths continued, and for several long minutes, he did not move.

Arthur held still, both out of a sense of self-preservation and out of a desire to show Feliciano that he truly meant no harm.

Not this time.

Never again.

"Feliciano… please," Arthur said softly, after that long silence. Right now, he could only fight with his bare hands, unable to control his magic or utilize it. Feliciano knew that- but he did not trust Arthur to not raise a hand against him, and the angel did not move.

"Y-You stole my feathers from me," Feliciano wept softly.

He looked up at the clear blue sky, wishing he could fly in them again, fly back to safety and his family and the warmth of heavenly clouds and sunshine. He'd be grounded on the earth for weeks, at best.

"They'll grow back," Arthur said softly, jaw still paining him with every word he spoke, chest aching as he coughed up more blood.

"I want to go _home_," Feliciano said back, force in his voice, fists clenching again, before he gave a shuddering sigh and his fists loosened.

"I trusted you," he whispered again, and Arthur's heart broke.

"I know."

* * *

Feliciano did not heal him.

Arthur walked slowly and gingerly around his own home, breathing labored from his broken ribs and sternum, jaw pained too much for him to eat or drink or speak, one eye swollen shut.

In fact, Feliciano had run. Run, run, run, as fast as his lithe and fast body could take him. Right into the forest, a place to hide and live until his feathers had grown back and he could fly away, never to return.

Arthur had been a fool to think that Feliciano would stay.

Even so, he left the front door wide open, despite how much Iain scolded him and yelled at him not to, considering his battered state.

"What, you're going to let him just come in and finish the job?"

Arthur shook his head.

"He had the chance to kill me, and he didn't."

And Iain did the best he could to put together a numbing potion, but even the draught could only dull the pain a little. It wasn't something for healing, not like the way an angel's hands could run over skin and mend flesh and bone with energy alone in a matter of moments.

Arthur had at least a few days, if not weeks, of painful healing ahead of him, and with his energy still frozen in his body, every movement felt like hundreds of needles being stabbed into his flesh.

Iain could not undo that angel's curse.

"_You will never hurt another creature with that magic again."_

_"Feliciano… I stopped hunting, after you. I couldn't. Never again."_

_Feliciano's eyes widened, and his heart clenched, and he ran._

* * *

A week of silence.

Iain had left after the first few days, and Arthur was alone.

He still walked slowly, lethargically, ribs still healing and making even breathing so painful, so excruciating. The constant pain from frozen burning magic trapped in his veins and unable to naturally flow, leaving him magically paralyzed, made matters worse.

He was vulnerable, in constant agony, in pain, and he knew he deserved every bit of it.

His jaw, at least, had healed, as had his black eye. But his crushed ribs and sternum needed more time, and his delicate lungs were still mending after the way Feliciano's punches had driven bone into flesh.

He was, so literally, painfully, alone.

But he wasn't as alone as he thought, for he'd noticed that a sheet he'd hung out to dry had vanished, one day. He didn't bother searching for it, he knew where it had likely gone.

Even for an angel, being out alone in that forest must have been cold, after all. Quiet, too.

So Arthur left his front door open. Every minute of every day and night.

His cat Crumpet ambled around the yard and wandered the forest daily before returning home and curling up by the fireplace, enjoying the newfound freedom that came with the open door, although sometimes the cat would end up gone longer than usual and Arthur would worry.

The fold-eared cat was his only companion nowadays, after all.

On the night it rained, he wandered downstairs to make sure the rain hadn't gotten the entrance too wet, but instead found the door closed. In confusion, he followed the sound of a crackling fire, and found a figure wrapped in a sheet, curled up in front of the flames- a figure with reddish-auburn hair and naked wings hiding in a sheet.

He felt a small jolt run up his leg with every slow step he took closer, and he knew that the little spark was a warning. Feliciano was watching his every movement without even turning around, wary and mistrustful.

But he had come inside, and for that, Arthur was grateful.

He stepped back and out of the room, and he could still feel the spark running up his leg with every step- Feliciano was tracking him even now, flighty and anxious and mistrusting.

Arthur didn't blame him, but it still made his heart ache all the worse.

He rummaged around his house, through all the places where he still had Feliciano's belongings, the clothes he'd worn and the thick blankets he'd preferred and the little trinkets he'd insisted Arthur buy. He found a pair of boxers he'd bought for Feliciano a long time ago, and some blankets, and brought them over to the angel, knowing that Feliciano was still naked as he was when he'd hatched, and that he was likely cold.

He set the clothes down within reach, but was careful to keep his distance from Feliciano.

And the angel looked at the objects placed beside him, looking between them and Arthur several times as he slowly reached for it, like a cautious cat: slowly and warily, then snatching it all up at once. He slid the boxers on, before replacing the sheet with a nest of blankets, curling up in front of the fire and relaxing a little more.

There was such _silence_, and it was stifling.

Where Feliciano had brought warmth and bubbling laughter and chatter before, there was nothing but the sound of a crackling fire, and the rain and wind outside now.

It still felt so empty, in the house.

It occurred to Arthur, when he saw the way Feliciano's lithe body was now a bit bonier, that Feliciano was weak, and hadn't eaten for well over a week. Not substantially, anyway.

So he went and toasted some slices of bread (which he did _not_ burn, thank you) and covered them in berry jam, because he knew full well that Feliciano couldn't stand his cooking and that Feliciano loved sweets.

Arthur nudged the plate of jam and toast at him next, and Feliciano examined it thoroughly before deciding it was safe to eat, and consuming it. It was a slight relief, to see Feliciano accepting whatever Arthur gave him. At least he wasn't rejecting everything completely. Feliciano had walked into the house of his own volition, accepted the clothes and blankets, and some food.

He was startled when one of Feliciano's wings gave a sudden bat, and the angel sat up straight, alert, pinning him with a hardened gaze. What had he done wrong now?

"Are those my feathers?" Feliciano asked, as he realized that the white feathers hanging from around Arthur's neck were in fact his own. His eyes were narrowing, angry again, and Arthur realized what he must think.

"It's not a trophy," he rushed out, attempting to placate Feliciano. "It was never… could never be a _trophy_."

"Then why?"

"…they were all I had left of you."

Feliciano's expression softened for the briefest moment, before he hid back in his nest of blankets, hiding away. "I don't understand," he said from under the pile.

Why, _why_ would Arthur _willingly_ kill him, and then decide that he needed something to remember him by? If he was important enough to be remembered, important enough for Arthur to _want_ something of him left, then why hadn't he lain down the knife? Back then, when Arthur had murdered him- what was he _thinking_?

Arthur was silent, and his fingers clenched into a shaking fist, but his expression remained neutral, even if his voice wavered slightly.

"I thought that once the job was done, I… life would go back to normal. I was a fool," he murmured. "It was only after you stopped breathing that I realized, you were not just another target. I thought that when you breathed your last, I would feel as calm and unbothered as I had with every other creature I'd hunted. I was so terribly wrong." He knew that the words were not casting him in a better light. He knew that he was showing, so blatantly, how he'd thought back then.

"Did you really think your humanity was that far gone, Arthur?" Feliciano said after a few moments. Arthur was too startled by hearing Feliciano say his name again, that he didn't reply for a few moments, until Feliciano sat up from his hiding place in the blankets to pin him with another look. "Y-You… you _idiot_," he said, voice shaking, his own smaller hands clenched into fists, tears in his eyes again. "Y-You thought that… a-after everything, killing me would make all of that- of us- just _vanish_? Make it _insignificant_? _Idiota!_" And he dipped his hand into the flame of the fireplace and threw a small ball of it at Arthur in his fury, burning the other man as Arthur tried to block it with his hands.

The flame went out quickly enough, but Arthur's hands were blistering and bleeding, and he was hissing through his teeth in pain as he rushed to the kitchen to run cool water over the skin.

Feliciano instantly faltered, regretting the rash action.

But he did not heal Arthur.

* * *

**A/N: Leave a review, if you like.**

**Thank you for reading! Expect the next update in a few days.**


	4. Confused Heart

**A/N: Here's the next part.**

**Review reply to TumblinOwl: I'm happy you got to see it on the blog! I think I mentioned it earlier, but this version on FF is a bit more revised for better flow, so let me know if it's better!**

**On we go!**

* * *

The storm went on all night, and Feliciano curled up by the fireplace to sleep, putting up a ward around him to protect himself from attack.

Arthur couldn't sleep. He was too busy repeating Feliciano's words in his mind, over and over.

"I'm a fool," the Englishman repeated once more, to himself, in the darkness of his room. "How could I have believed that for a second…" He knew Feliciano was right, but admitting it would be another matter entirely. After so many years of hunting, cruelly deceiving so many creatures, angels in particular, he thought that he'd lost his humanity. That he could kill hunt after hunt, collect his spoils, and move on, without feeling guilt or remorse.

It was a lie.

He'd been shaking after each kill, but denied it, claiming it to be an adrenaline rush.

He regretted going into hunting. He truly did.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't regret for _hunting_, exactly… It was regret, that somewhere along the way, his hunting changed.

He went from hunting dangerous creatures who were ruthlessly harming humans, putting other creatures in danger, to instead simply hunting anything he was being paid to hunt, regardless of innocence.

When that had happened… _that_ was when he'd been corrupted.

When he'd gone from killing to maintain balance, to killing for money.

He could see that, now.

He was not immune to human greed.

* * *

Arthur went about the next day fumbling with everything, his hands bandaged up to protect the burned flesh from infection. He was still in pain with every breath from his healing ribs and lungs, pain with every movement from the magic-blocking curse Feliciano had place onto him.

Feliciano could hear his labored breathing, and hear it every time Arthur's bandaged hands dropped something fragile. But he did _not_ hear Arthur curse, nor lament, nor complain.

He took his punishment without complaint, knowing it was deserved, and so, Feliciano did not heal him.

…but while Arthur was picking broken glass from his feet in the bathroom, Feliciano quietly swept up the broken glass and discarded it, cleaning the tile of blood, before he returned to his quiet rest in front of the ever-burning wood of the fireplace.

The storm had not yet passed.

* * *

The storm lasted four days and nights, and on the fifth morning, Arthur woke up to find that his hands were unblemished, and his breathing was unhindered.

When Arthur went to say good morning, Feliciano did not apologize for injuring him, but said "buongiorno" in a soft voice, eyes still staring into the flames.

"How are the wings?" Arthur ventured after a few more moments of silence, and Feliciano hummed.

"The feathers are breaking skin," Feliciano murmured, shifting his wings slightly from the itch of feathers growing back in. It was not a pleasant experience.

Arthur offered Feliciano an orange, and Feliciano took the fruit without glancing at it this time, starting to peel it and toss the rind into the flame to release the scent of citrus. He ate the entire thing, and Arthur finally decided to try touching the angel again, after nearly two weeks after his hatching.

"Thank you," Arthur murmured, offering a now-healed hand to Feliciano. "For that." At least he could breathe easy now, use his hands without trouble, and even though the frozen energy in his body still hurt, it was more tolerable without the other pain accompanying it.

Feliciano seemed hesitant, and slightly confused, but took Arthur's hand gingerly, as if being touched by the man alone could cause him pain. He was still ready to pull away in case it was a trick. But, all the other man did was gently squeeze his hand and hold it, and Feliciano felt his cheeks flare up red and burn when he saw the soft, tired, but relieved smile on Arthur's lips.

* * *

Trying to repair a bond near irreparably torn by betrayal was difficult, Arthur realized. Feliciano had every right to reject his words, touches, advances, _attempts _at any kind of bonding whatsoever. He _knew_ that Feliciano had the right and freedom to run away from this place and never return, to leave this curse on him until the day he died and the time his soul went up for judgment.

Even then, Feliciano had no obligation to even see him be cast down to punishment.

And most of the time, Feliciano did reject attempts at it. After that moment where their hands had touched for a few minutes, holding each other, Feliciano let go and Arthur didn't try again for a long while. Pushing an angry, tired, _hurt_ angel wouldn't get him anywhere.

For where there was anger, he knew that there had been _pain and fear and hurt and betrayal_ first.

So when the warmest, kindest angel he'd ever met had turned into the coldest, most wary, tired thing he'd lain eyes on, he did not blame Feliciano.

All he could do was try to win him back over, at least his friendship.

* * *

"I want my feathers back," Feliciano murmured one day, holding out his hand expectantly. He still stared right into the fire, hand outstretched towards Arthur, but he never looked at the man.

Arthur knew it was an order, not a request, and he took the necklace and pulled it over his head, before letting the feather-tuft-pendant fall into Feliciano's palm. Feliciano's feathers seemed to melt and vanish into his skin, and Arthur knew that Feliciano had retaken whatever bit of power was left in those feathers.

"I… sometimes, it was almost as if they whispered," Arthur murmured after a long silence.

Feliciano's hand clenched into a fist.

"I know."

The storm had passed by now, although there was still the constant on-and-off drizzles that would mist the area, putting a wet chill in the air.

Feliciano's feathers were budding, tiny little fluffy tips poking through the skin of his wings, making them look a bit less bare and pink. There was a thin layer of white on the limbs now, and as feathers grew back out, soon his wings would be magnificent and grand once more, and he could fly to freedom. The downy feathers were growing in first, so soon a thick, fluffy, soft layer of down would coat his wings, before the rest of the feathers grew back in.

"Was it…"

"Begging," Feliciano replied, fist trembling now. "Begging my murderer to bring me back."

_My murderer._

Arthur felt his heart stabbed by the words, and he left the room.

* * *

He manages to ask at the end of the third week, when Feliciano's wings are finally covered in that thick down.

"What am I, to you?"

"Judas," Feliciano replied softly, and Arthur took a sharp inhale of breath through his teeth, fists clenching. The name of the greatest betrayer…

"Can I be forgiven?" he managed to ask, voice barely kept from trembling. He was angry, mostly at himself, and he felt the desire to punch a stone wall over and over until he'd gotten his aggression out or broken through it.

Feliciano did not reply with words, but simply shifted his wings, lifting one up to gently brush a soft wingtip against Arthur's cheek.

Arthur's eyes widened and he stepped forward, before falling to his knees before the angel and wrapping his arms around him, holding him tight.

Feliciano was stunned at first, but soon held him back, looping his arms around his neck, and then wrapping the both of them up in his wings, protective, nearly desperate.

Arthur had been his friend.

A friend who betrayed him, but…

A friend.

And friends forgave each other.

But the hug was short, and soon Feliciano was pushing Arthur away, still too mistrusting to let Arthur stay that close to him for more than a few seconds. It hurt, to feel wings pushing him away, despite the gentleness of the motion.

But if there was anything Arthur Kirkland had learned to do, it was _wait._

* * *

Another week, and the thick down of Feliciano's wings were now supplemented by short but growing primaries and secondaries, flight feathers and semiplume all adding to the volume and strength. Feliciano had started to preen his wings in the morning, every morning, arranging the feathers and caring for them, making sure they were all aligned and growing in just right.

Feliciano started to really smile again, wrapping himself up in the warmth of his wings, having missed the sensation of warmth and safety that came with his own feathers. He began to relax, giggling now and then, soft laughs whenever Arthur did something like stumble over the threshold of the house or make an amusing comment about something in the newspaper.

Arthur felt relieved, to be getting hints of his friend back.

It was only that night, though, that he felt he had a chance of winning him back over completely.

He awoke late in the night, slightly confused, to feel a weight at his side, a warmth that wasn't usually there. Upon turning his head, however, he quickly discovered the source, spotting reddish-auburn hair and fluffy white wings tucked close, and he realized that the angel had snuck into his bed again, just like he used to.

Feliciano was curled up in a ball beside him, head resting so close to his chest that he might as well have just rested on him- but he knew Feliciano wouldn't get that close, not just yet.

And so it continued, for several nights. Arthur would sleep, Feliciano would sneak into bed beside him and curl up, but never get too close. Arthur would make a point of avoiding touching Feliciano, and wouldn't dare do anything to make the angel think he might take advantage of him while he was sleeping.

When Feliciano woke up every morning, bleary-eyed and tired, to find that he was still healthy and unharmed, he felt surprised. One more night with his murderer, and no harm had come to him. It happened again, and again, and over the nights, Feliciano would inch closer and closer to Arthur, until he was finally tucked up against his side one night.

Arthur pushed his luck that night, and settled closer, wrapping an arm around Feliciano and gently pulling him in, keeping his hold loose and unrestricting. As he expected, Feliciano's eyes shot open and his wings flapped and fanned out in a display of strength and slight panic, an attempt to defend himself, before Feliciano realized that Arthur was just trying to hold him.

No traps, no magic, no blades, no deceit nor trickery.

Arthur Kirkland was just trying to _hold_ him again.

So Feliciano let the ice he'd put around his heart melt a little more, and he tucked his wings back in and curled up to Arthur's body, shutting his eyes once more and trusting Arthur with his sleeping self.

It had been far too long since either had them had gotten the chance to just rest in each other's warmth, so the angel cuddled up close and buried his face into Arthur's chest. He inhaled the scent of tea and wood and herbs and roses and draped a wing over Arthur, a rather trusting gesture, considering how the man had stolen his feathers from him a year prior.

In return, Arthur clung tight to the angel in his arms and lightly stroked over feathers and bare skin, something he wouldn't have dared to even attempt weeks earlier. He buried his nose into reddish-auburn hair and pressed his lips to the sun-kissed skin of Feliciano's temple, and just felt himself at ease.

He tucked Feliciano's head under his chin, and slept.

That night, Arthur Kirkland dreamt of bright amber eyes and soft white feathers, bubbling laughter and warmth.

Feliciano dreamt of deep emerald eyes shaken by conflict and a blade dripping with blood, and the deceiving warmth of a last embrace.

So when Feliciano woke with a start and shoved Arthur away with every ounce of strength he had, Arthur was startled and still addled by sleep, but he sat up just to look down at where the fearful angel was lying at the far edge of the bed, eyes wide and body shaken as it looked back up at him.

"Feliciano?" Arthur breathed softly after a few tense moments, and Feliciano's eyes filled with tears.

"I dreamed," Feliciano whispered, eyes still full of the horror of betrayal, and Arthur gave a long, tired sigh.

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, understanding. He settled back down on his side, keeping wary eye contact with Feliciano, before lifting an arm and tilting his head ever so slightly with an inquiring look, a quiet invitation.

Feliciano didn't know whether to accept it.

Just as Arthur was getting ready to lower his arm and roll over, Feliciano moved forward, and embraced him again, and Arthur held him tight and went right back to sleep.

Feliciano whimpered softly into Arthur's chest and blinked away tears, tears of overwhelming and conflicting emotions. But he pushed through it, and held on tight to Arthur, whispering something unintelligible before he fell back to sleep as well.

* * *

Arthur and Feliciano were woken up by the demanding meows from Crumpet, who had started to clamber all over them fussily, in an attempt to wake someone to feed him.

Both of them were tired and disoriented at first, trying to get the fur and paws off their faces, before Feliciano burst into laughter and Arthur cracked a smile, and Feliciano sat up to scoop up Crumpet into his arms and cuddle the grumpy cat.

Arthur's gaze softened as he watched the scene, and he hadn't realized how fondly he'd been regarding the angel until he realized Feliciano was staring at him.

"-thur?" was all he heard before Arthur zoned back in to focus. Feliciano was pink in the cheeks again, very much aware of the way Arthur had just been looking at him. That look… it couldn't have been fake, could it?

No, it was genuine. Everything Arthur had done had been genuine, maybe not from the start, but somewhere along the way, the way Arthur spoke to him, looked at him… It had been so truly honest and genuine.

It was why Feliciano hadn't seen the danger coming until it had been too late.

But how did he know Arthur wouldn't betray him again, to trap him and feather him and keep repeating it? He didn't, and so Feliciano's curse to impair Arthur's magic remained. Not even the most skilled wizards, witches, and warlocks could remove the curse the angel had put on him.

He knew the curse was paining Arthur, but the man didn't show it. He blamed the English "stiff upper lip."

"Sorry, I didn't… realize, that I was staring," Arthur said slowly after a moment, glancing away and feeling his cheeks burn.

Feliciano didn't reply at first, and instead cuddled Crumpet a bit more, pleased that the cat continued to let him hold it, his own cheeks a bit pink. His wings fluttered slightly, and Arthur caught the sound- a distinct movement that meant an angel felt happy.

They were quiet for a few minutes, before Arthur finally got out of bed. "I'll feed him," Arthur said, before going to fetch and open a new can of fish into Crumpet's bowl. Upon hearing the can opening, Crumpet leapt right out of Feliciano's arms and trotted off to get his meal, leaving Feliciano alone on the bed to muse.

* * *

When Arthur settled under the sheets that night, shutting his eyes and turning out the lights, he heard his door creak open.

Feliciano was standing shyly in the doorway, bare and ready for sleep, a wing carefully draped over his vitals for the sake of modesty. He seemed anxious, unsure of whether to step into the room or not, and bit his lip.

Arthur pulled back the covers and made room for Feliciano, inviting him in, and Feliciano hesitated only a few moments before settling in the vacated spot and curling up, feeling Arthur gently drape the sheets over his skin. Arthur smiled softly and shut his eyes after that, only to open them in surprise when he felt Feliciano pressing right up against him, hugging him once more, tucking his head under Arthur's chin.

He even draped a wing back over Arthur protectively, and that was enough to give Arthur the go-ahead to hold Feliciano just as tight and shut his eyes to sleep.

This time, they both slept peacefully.

* * *

It had been a little over a month since Feliciano's hatching. Five weeks, give or take.

Feliciano's wings spread wide and showed off their fully-feathered state.

He was ready to fly.

"I need to go home," he murmured softly.

Arthur nodded. "Will you come back?"

Feliciano was silent for a long time, before murmuring, "I don't know. But be careful. When I go up there, I'll have to be honest about what happened. My brothers might be on a warpath."

"I'm surprised they haven't come after me already, if what you've told me about your older brother is true."

"Nonno might have been holding them back. Maybe he wants to wait until you're vulnerable."

Arthur really didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"Wasn't your grandfather… the head of some of the angel legions?"

"Oh, si. He's a very good warrior."

Feliciano didn't say much more after that, and Arthur felt a new chill run down his spine.

He would be punished, so badly. Much worse than how Feliciano had beaten him down- much worse.

"I'll go, now," Feliciano said, spreading his wings and lifting them up high, ready to beat them down with a gust of wind to propel himself upwards.

"Wait."

Feliciano froze, and turned around, just in time for Arthur to lean down and capture his lips in a kiss.

The angel's eyes widened and he felt his heart rate speeding up, heart pounding against his chest, and he was still frozen stock-still with his wings up and quivering as he felt his cheeks burning. He couldn't think, all he knew was that suddenly his murderer-friend's lips were on his and Arthur's arm was slipping around his waist and pulling him in close while the other hand moved up to cup a reddened cheek.

Tears welled up in Feliciano's wide, shocked eyes, before he shut them and the warm droplets rolled down his cheeks, Arthur's thumb brushing away the tears as the other man's lips pressed a bit more firmly against Feliciano's.

Soon their lips and bodies were melting together, Feliciano's arms looping around Arthur's neck and one of his hands' fingers tangling into blond hair, and Feliciano's wings wrapped around Arthur to shield them both.

If Arthur had wings, he would've wrapped them so tightly around Feliciano at this very moment.

When Arthur finally pulled back, just a few inches, enough to keep their lips apart but their faces close, Arthur murmured, "Be safe, love."

_You have no right_, Feliciano thought as more tears ran down his cheeks. _No right to say those words, to make me feel like this- not after what you did to me._

But all he could do in response was to give a weak nod and then pull away, before he ran. _Ran_ from conflicting feelings and a whirlwind of confusion in his heart, and beat his wings down and fly _up_ towards the sun-covered clouds.

Arthur watched the angel fly until Feliciano was barely a speck in the sky, vanishing into the white of clouds and leaving him alone once more.

On the ground was a single white feather, and Arthur knelt down to lift it, and keep it close to his heart.

But the moment it touched it, it burst into light, and Arthur felt the magic in his body rushing, rushing out through his very pores and flowing freely again, the ever-searing pain of frozen energy no longer plaguing him.

The curse had been lifted.


	5. Home

**A/N: Another part for you guys. There's some mentions of sex here, it's nothing _too_ explicit, but I marked the parts off with / in case anyone wants to skip that bit.**

**This is the official "end" to the story, so it'll be marked "complete" after this update, but I _might_ be uploading another chapter that is just more explicit lovemaking, if anyone's interested.**

* * *

When Feliciano returned to the fluffy warmth of heavenly clouds and golden arches and pearly buildings, he felt so at home again. He felt safe, warm, in a familiar place with familiar sights and smells and sounds and people.

He wandered back to his home, and curled up in his nest of cotton and feathers, inhaling the scent of home that he'd forgotten. Even his little cat Gino was there to greet him, fussily rubbing all over him and meowing in delighted greeting to see Feliciano again after so long.

The little house in heaven was just as he'd left it, save for a few things moved around. Someone had come to care for his home in his absence.

"Feliciano?" He heard a familiar voice from the next room over, and he lifted his head from the nest.

"Vino?"

Lovino flew into Feliciano's bedroom in such a hurry that the gust knocked over plenty of things and scared the cat, but he didn't care right now. What he cared about was clinging to Feliciano after a year of the angel having been missing without a word of notice- and everyone had known, know that he'd died, been stabbed and betrayed and killed and feathered, and yet he was _here_, here and looking sleepy and tired and ready to cry.

Lovino clung to him and let Feliciano weep into his chest. He wrapped strong, large wings around his baby brother's form, and kissed his temples, his cheeks, forehead, even nose and lips and chin and covered his face in kisses of _relief_ and comfort and reassurance.

"I thought he'd killed you."

Feliciano wept.

"He did."

* * *

Arthur spent another long week in silence, and on his way home after a rainy day, he felt energy.

Masses, and masses of energy, and they were approaching fast- and then from the sky came two great blasts of light. Arthur had been travelling on the lone and nearly forgotten path through the forest to his secluded home, when he became pinned and trapped in a clearing as those lights landed.

Those lights blasted into the earth in a trap formation around him, two craters each about ten meters from where he'd been standing- and from those craters, stood two very _dangerous _looking angels wielding blades and shields. One landed behind him, the other in front of him, and Arthur quickly shifted stance so that he could watch both craters cautiously.

The angels' wings unfurled as they both stood, and Arthur was struck with awe. The largest angel's wings had feathers tipped in gold, and his build was bulky and strong, scarred, showing that he'd fought many battles before, while the younger angel's wings were tipped with crimson.

This must be…

"You're Feliciano's grandfather," Arthur said slowly, cautiously, before turning his head to look at the other angel, one with flashing hazel eyes and a scowl that threatened death. "And you must be Lovino."

"Tch. You're awfully calm for someone who's about to die," Lovino growled, and Arthur felt every instinct he had telling him to run- but every thought reminding him that he wouldn't make it even two feet.

So he lifted his hands and made use of his restored magic, and tried to defend himself as long as he could.

* * *

"Roderich?" Feliciano murmured to the heavenly musician.

"Yes, Feliciano?" Roderich replied with a hum, still plucking at the strands of a harp and penning a new melody.

"Where is my family?"

"Ah… they…"

"_Roderich._"

"Valente is in the art room. As for Lovino and your grandfather… They went to handle the matter of… your murderer," Roderich said, eyeing Feliciano carefully.

Feliciano turned pale at first, out of fear- and then red with rage. His family had gone to slaughter Arthur without even _telling_ him first and- and-!

Arthur couldn't fight against two angels, even with his level of magic. He could hold them off a good while, yes- but his brother, his _grandfather_- they were murderously furious, not to mention powerful angels with a strong bloodline and even stronger magic.

Feliciano was gone in a flurry of feathers before Roderich could even stop him, and the musician gave an exasperated sigh before sitting back down to his work.

It wasn't his business, and Feliciano was an adult now. A full-fledged angel of his own.

Feliciano was no longer the toddling little fledgling that used to follow him around his music room and listen to him play. He was no longer that child he'd mistaken for a girl, nor the child with innocence in his eyes or a bounce in his step.

Feliciano had learned of pain, of betrayal.

He'd grown up.

He could make his own choices.

* * *

An hour had gone by of fighting, and Arthur felt himself already so drained, so exhausted.

So this was it.

He was on his knees now, struggling to stand again but always falling back to the earth, using whatever magic he had left to try and fend off his attackers a moment longer. His left arm had a slash wound across the forearm, his leg slashed along the calf to keep him from moving. He was losing blood fast, and he had no doubt that he might die here.

Romulus and Lovino were both stepping closer and lifting their blades, ready to make the final strike.

Arthur shut his eyes and waited for the blow, but he felt a massive gust of wind and another flash of light, and suddenly there were arms around his neck and wings around his body, and the feeling of a protective and powerful aura all around him.

He caught the scent of cotton and basil and tomato vines, and opened his eyes to see reddish-auburn hair and amber eyes, and he let himself give up and slump forward into those arms and wings and torso, and relax.

Arthur was so very tired.

The same wings he'd plucked clean of feathers were now the ones protecting him, wrapping him up in warmth and security.

"_Don't_," came the low threat from the angel holding him, as Feliciano stared down his family with carefully suppressed rage. "How could you do this? Without even consulting me first?! Don't you think I should have some _say_ in this matter? What this human does for harming me is _my_ decision!" Feliciano hissed sternly, body trembling as he kept from outright shouting.

Arthur felt Feliciano's gentle and steady hand gently running over his forearm, mending skin and muscle and sinew as if it were clay to be sculpted, leaving his arm healed and unblemished, no longer spilling blood. Feliciano's hands were on his calf next, healing him, allowing him to stand.

Feliciano had come to protect him. To heal him, to keep him alive.

Even after everything Arthur had done.

"Feliciano, move out of the way. You've _always_ been like this- you refused to raise a sword against a single creature, and look what 's happened now! Even when someone kills you, you can't even properly punish him!" Lovino shouted, angry and protective, frustrated with how his little brother was being so seemingly careless.

"Lovino is right, Feliciano. To kill an angel is an unforgiveable thing, and if you aren't willing to kill him, it's best for _us_ to," Romulus said, more calm than his eldest grandson, firm of voice and strong in stance, serious and not ready to back down.

Arthur could _hear_ Feliciano growl before he spat, "I said _not_ to touch him! He's _my _responsibility! You've both become so caught up in your battles and pride that you've forgotten something so _important_!"

Lovino scowled. "Don't even dare, Feliciano. We're doing this to _protect you!_ Do you think we want to lose you? Not again! Last time we couldn't catch the danger in time, but this time- no, no, we won't _let_ this bastard have another chance to hurt you!"

"People _change_, 'Vino!" Feliciano snapped back, and hearing the old childhood nickname caught Lovino off guard and silenced him. Feliciano calmed after that, and turned a softer gaze to his grandfather now.

"Forgive him, Nonno," Feliciano pleaded softly, wrapping his wings tightly around Arthur and protecting him, defensive and unwilling to back down. "I've _forgiven_. Don't tell me you've forgotten how to do that. Ti prego," he murmured softly.

Arthur nearly forgot to breathe. He snapped out of it after a moment, and in that silence, his hand moved and reached out- and he could feel every angel's eyes on him, except for Feliciano. Feliciano's gaze remained pinned on his grandfather, unwavering.

Arthur reached and took Feliciano's hand, gently and loosely, and Feliciano intertwined their fingers gently, never once looking at Arthur himself. Just his grandfather.

Feliciano was proving a point now, Arthur could tell.

"I won't trust him," Lovino said, to break the silence.

"Then trust _me_," Feliciano pleaded, turning to look at Lovino instead, when Romulus refused to answer him.

The old, scarred angel was staring Arthur down, looking straight past his grandson and watching the human instead. This was the being that had killed his beloved grandson, struck him down with a blade and then stripped his lifeless body of every beautiful feather on Feliciano's wings.

But it was also the human to feel such _remorse_ and _regret_ that he would go through a year's worth of journey and struggle, just to get the ingredients he so desperately needed to give this angel back the life he'd stolen. The one who incubated the angel's egg and let Feliciano scream and punish him as he saw fit, without protest or fighting back, the one who regardless of the pain Feliciano had caused him, had left his front door open to welcome the angel into his home.

He'd been watching so carefully.

Arthur was the human that had stolen a kiss before Feliciano flew back to heaven, instead of stealing something else.

Arthur was still behind Feliciano, glancing between both Romulus and Lovino, wary and unsure of what turn events would take. Would they still try to strike him down? Even by moving Feliciano out of the way?

"Fine. I pass responsibility for his judgment to you," Romulus finally decided, folding his arms over his chest and giving a firm nod. "But I will say right now- should Arthur Kirkland lay a harmful finger on you even once more, I will not hold back," he said next, his voice holding fierce and vicious promise, eyes flashing with a clear threat, before his stance eased and his expression softened. "Do not waste this second chance, Kirkland."

Arthur was stunned, and he gave a short nod, still a bit too surprised by the mercy to think of what to say besides a steady, "Yes, sir."

Lovino, however, whipped around to face his grandfather, looking greatly displeased, snapping, "Nonno, you can't be serious! You're just going to let him go? Just like that? He's hunted our kind before, don't think I didn't research him!"

Romulus shook his head. "I am just as aware as you are, Lovino. But Feliciano has a point. People can change. Let's give him a chance."

"And if he kills Feliciano again?"

"He _won't_," Feliciano interrupted, adamant and trusting, finally tucking his wings close against his back now that he no longer felt the need to shield his human friend. He squeezed Arthur's hand, and perked up when Arthur moved from being slightly behind him, to stepping beside him and pulling Feliciano close against his side.

Feliciano was startled, and bristled for a second, before he relaxed and let himself lean against Arthur's side, just how he used to over a year ago. "He won't," he repeated, before looking up at Arthur with nervous, pleading eyes.

_You won't, will you?_

Arthur met his gaze and gave a tiny shake of his head. "No, never," he murmured aloud in response, gaze gentle and reassuring, as he gave Feliciano's hand a squeeze.

And Feliciano's worried expression melted into a brilliant smile, one that he hadn't seen in so, so long.

Seeing Feliciano smile like that broke Lovino's resolve, and the older of the two brothers sighed and smoothed down his bristling feathers.

"You're lucky, you murderous bastard," Lovino growled in a threat, although he seemed to be sulking now. "One hair out of line and you're _dead_, don't forget."

"I won't," Arthur replied, almost snapping- how could he forget that he had several angels who would most certainly be after his head if he ever hurt Feliciano? These were only two- but Feliciano had mentioned many more loved ones that lived up in the heavens, and he had no doubt that next time, he might be facing a small horde of them.

No, he said, stopping himself.

There will be no "next time."

* * *

"You came to protect me."

"Of course I did. You protected me," Feliciano murmured, as they walked back slowly to Arthur's home. "Not that I needed it. That dragon was ready to run away."

Arthur chuckled. "You keep telling yourself that."

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"When we first met, in that dragon's cave… You were meant to hunt me. So why didn't you kill me then, while I was weak?"

Arthur hummed. "I didn't realize you were my target yet. At the time, you just looked like an angel in trouble."

"I wasn't in trouble."

"If you say so, Feliciano."

Feliciano pouted, before his lips pursed. "So if I had been any other angel, you wouldn't have harmed me?"

"Not a feather."

"So it was really just for pay."

"I don't go around hunting angels on a whim. Er, _didn't._ I don't hunt, now."

"So you've said. I guess that's a relief. You didn't just kill things for fun."

"I'm not heartless, Feliciano."

Arthur had said it without thinking, before he realized the significance of his words, and Feliciano stopped dead halfway up the path to Arthur's home, letting go of Arthur's hand and clenching his hands into fists.

"S-So why would you believe you were, when you killed me?" Feliciano asked in a soft voice, frustration seeping through in the way his voice trembled and his fists shook. "That it would be easy to just get it over with?"

"I was a fool," Arthur said softly. "And I lied to myself. It had never been easy to kill. And it- it wasn't easy to kill you. I _regretted_ what I did, Feliciano- I couldn't… just walk away from you. I could say I'm sorry a million times over and mean it more every time- but it's worthless if you won't accept the apologies," he said softly.

Feliciano rushed forward and hugged him, burying a now tear-stained face into Arthur's chest, clinging tightly to the back of Arthur's shirt.

He wept for his betrayal, but this time, he let Arthur hold him through it, melting as Arthur's fingers ran through his hair and stroked it, as a hand massaged gently at the small of his back, soft lips brushing against his temple and cheek and murmuring loving words of comfort into his ear.

He was wrapped up in his murderer's everything, and Feliciano let it go.

After a while, Feliciano's knees buckled, and Arthur quickly knelt to catch him and support him, before altogether scooping him up in his arms. He was careful to hold Feliciano in a way that didn't put strain on his wings as much, and carried him home, setting the angel down in bed, and letting him make a nest of blankets and sheets for himself.

Feliciano tugged at Arthur's clothes and managed to coax him out of most of them, before pulling the other man right down into the nest, determined and forceful but still playful.

Feliciano felt better.

With a weight off his heart, and betrayal put behind him to try and forgive and move on, Feliciano set to rebuilding the relationship they'd had so long ago.

Feliciano felt that it was best to start with cuddling in a blanket nest, and Arthur would humor him with faux reluctance, and hold him close as night drew closer.

* * *

"I never did understand why it was you choose to wear such a small scrap of cloth on you. Your family wears perfectly respectable togas, and yet you fly around with this odd little miniskirt on," Arthur commented, somewhere into their third hour in the nest, as he idly fingered the cloth in question between his fingers.

"It's comfier. I can feel the sun more, and less clothes means I can move more freely," Feliciano replied with a little shrug, although his cheeks were a bit pink, betraying his slight embarrassment over the way Arthur's fingers were slowly but surely lifting the back hem of the cloth just a bit higher- and higher still.

"Artie!"

"Hm?"

"Quit fiddling with it!"

"You're not wearing anything under it, are you." It was an amused statement more than a question, and Feliciano colored a deep red.

"You shouldn't be thinking about it!" the angel huffed in reply, and Arthur only chuckled. "Besides, bodies aren't a thing to be ashamed of. Back home, lots of people don't really wear clothes- we just wear them around humans so they don't freak out so much."

"Is that so?"

"It is! You humans are way too fixated on sex!"

"Well, we do need to reproduce to keep our species alive. Unlike some."

"Angels reproduce too, you know. We just don't have kids that often. Once a century or every couple of them. And even still, most of us are created rather than born," he hummed, wings fluttering slightly as he shifted and made himself more comfortable.

"You were born, then?"

"Huh?"

"You have a grandfather, and brothers. So, you have a blood-linked family, and must have been born, correct?"

"Ah, si… si. My mother was beautiful and gentle, and my papa was strong like Nonno."

"Where are they now?"

"Mama's a guardian angel, so she spends most of her life tending to her human charges. I only get to see her between their deaths, so I miss her a lot."

"Your father?"

"A messenger. He's always flying all over the world and skies, sending messages between home and other angels. I don't get to see him much, either."

Arthur mulled over the information with a hum, and then gently stroked Feliciano's hair. "But you have your grandfather and brothers still. I hope it's not lonely."

"I have you, too," Feliciano murmured softly, wrapping Arthur up in his wings protectively again.

Arthur was startled, to find Feliciano this affectionate again. For Feliciano to be cuddled up right to his chest, sitting in his lap, wrapping him up in his wings and hugging him tightly, murmuring that he had Arthur, that he _wanted_ Arthur's company and friendship… it was stunning, to him.

After everything, he'd been forgiven.

Arthur held Feliciano tighter and murmured, "Yes… you have me too."

And Feliciano smiled.

* * *

It was only after dinner that Feliciano acknowledged the kiss Arthur stole from him just over a week ago.

"Kiss me again," Feliciano whispered softly, once they were curled up in the darkness together under the sheets.

Arthur hummed, eyes closed as he was on the verge of sleep, before they shot back open and he perched himself a bit more upright in surprise. "Pardon?"

"Kiss me again. Like you did last time," Feliciano asked next, cheeks pink, eyes imploring, lips parted ever so slightly.

Arthur blinked a few times, as if making sure he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, before he leaned down and pressed his lips against Feliciano's, wrapping an arm tighter around his waist, not wanting to let go for the fear of Feliciano slipping out of his grasp again.

When he pulled back, he kept their faces close, eyes searching Feliciano's for any signs of distress or regret- and he found nothing but happiness.

"Again."

And Arthur obliged.

"Again…"

Once more.

"Again…!"

Arthur smiled into the next kiss and didn't wait for permission next time, simply giving the angel kiss, after kiss, after kiss, and Feliciano was returning them in kind, eager and loving, growing steadily more passionate. Arthur slowly shifted, rolling over and pressing Feliciano down into the sheets, still pressing kiss after kiss onto those soft lips and loving the way the angel was simply melting beneath him.

When Arthur pulled back, Feliciano's lips chased his for a moment before Feliciano realized that Arthur had stopped the kisses, and the angel protested. His wings flapped slightly from where they were spread over the sheets, and his lips were in a pout. "Arthur…"

"If you get a request, I want to make one, as well," Arthur hummed, gaze soft but curious as he regarded Feliciano beneath him. "You got a kiss, but… I want something from further back. That night in the rain, you said something before you quieted," he murmured.

Feliciano faltered.

He remembered- the night Arthur had killed him, he'd clung to his friend in shock and weakened disbelief, asking why they couldn't be together, why Arthur had done that to him.

But last of all…

_"I… love…"_

He bit his lip.

"What was it you tried to say?" Arthur asked softly, a hand cupping Feliciano's cheek, his thumb gently stroking over the cheekbone. He watched as tears welled up in Feliciano's eyes, and he leaned down, pressing feather-light kisses over Feliciano's face and brushing away a tear as it rolled down Feliciano's cheek. "Won't you tell me?" he coaxed softly, feeling his own heart pounding in his chest. He didn't say anything after that, not wanting to push Feliciano too much.

He knew that night was a nightmare for the angel- he didn't want to make remembering it worse.

"I can't…" Feliciano whispered softly, shutting his eyes and turning his head to the side.

Arthur felt his heart sink, and he pulled back slightly, giving Feliciano space. He tried to keep his expression neutral, unsure of if he was angry, or simply heartbroken- maybe just still feeling guilt over his actions from so long ago. He shut his eyes, and turned his head away, and his fingers were curling into the sheets and forming shaking fists.

Feliciano could feel how tense Arthur had become above him, and it made his heart ache. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck and pulled him down, clinging to him, and Arthur clung to him back, silent, burying his face into Feliciano's shoulder.

There was a painful silence for several moments, until Feliciano whispered.

"One more."

And Arthur kissed Feliciano so lovingly, pleadingly, that Feliciano felt his heart break. His hands were cupping Feliciano's face so tenderly, gently, that Feliciano couldn't help but melt into his touch, shutting his eyes and holding still as he felt Arthur's other hand moving down along his side, firmly running along unmarred, soft skin until he reached a hip and held it, fingers fiddling with the hem of the cloth wound around his hips, slipping beneath it and rubbing the cloth between his fingers, brushing against the skin and lightly tugging but never hard enough to actually move it.

Feliciano kissed Arthur first this time, and held on tighter, lifting his hips a little and breathing out a soft, "Go ahead."

Arthur had the angel stripped bare in seconds, and his hands moved over Feliciano's body gently, as his eyes really _looked_ at him for the first time. Yes, Feliciano had run about naked before, but he'd never paid real attention to his form.

But _now…_

He could see every curve and bend of the bones and muscles beneath that lovely skin. He caught sight of a little birthmark on Feliciano's left hipbone, small scars along Feliciano's upper arms from snares he must've no doubt been caught in before, and odd scar on his left wrist that looked like an old bite wound- maybe from some magical creature or other that Feliciano had tended to before. He lifted Feliciano's left hand and kissed the underside of his wrist, where the scar was, and Feliciano's cheeks colored pink in pleasant surprise.

A kiss to his wrist, then his fingertips, then his lips brushing along a shoulder and collarbone, pressing kisses all over the lightly tanned skin. Lips pressed down Feliciano's jawbone and then neck, making him shiver and squirm, only to give another soft gasp of surprise as the kisses started to run down his chest, and then stomach, abdomen- and they stopped, only briefly, to press kisses to the hipbones and that one little birthmark.

/

Strong hands moved to press along Feliciano's inner thighs, spreading his legs slightly before kisses ran along the muscle there, making Feliciano's legs _quiver_ as he felt Arthur's teeth starting to teasingly nip along the sensitive skin, on top of all the kisses he was already being spoiled rotten with. Both thighs met such treatment until Arthur suddenly started intently making marks there, causing Feliciano's back to arch as he gave a low moan of encouragement.

Heat rushed south and before Feliciano knew it, Arthur's very enticing mouth was around him and he was tangling a hand into the Englishman's hair, moaning and struggling not to buck up into the wet heat of his mouth as Arthur proceeded to lavish pleasure on him, tongue and mouth both at work.

It felt amazing, and Feliciano felt dizzy- and goodness, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had carnal pleasure like this and- oh, _oh_ that felt wonderful and please don't stop-

_I'm going to be in so much trouble_, was a thought nagging at the back of Feliciano's mind, but it was quickly and rather easily shoved aside by the sensation of Arthur sucking him off and bringing him to a climax.

Feliciano's wings flapped involuntarily and threw off most of the sheets as he came, and Arthur swallowed his seed down easily before slowly and teasingly pulling that surprisingly talented mouth off of him, only to start pressing kisses all over his skin again, giving the softest laugh of amusement against his skin at the way Feliciano's wings gave away his ecstasy more than anything else.

Feliciano was still coming down from his high when he felt Arthur's lips on his again, and he returned the affection just like before, the kiss still slow and sweet and simmering with building heat and passion. Arthur had undressed himself and pressed between his legs, the weight of him surprisingly comforting more than stifling as it pressed Feliciano against the bed.

The fluffy white wings rose from where they were spread flat on the bed, only to clumsily wrap around Arthur's hips and his own knees, to provide a bit of warmth for both of them. Arthur kissed Feliciano again, a hand reaching out to thread through soft feathers, stroking them, and Feliciano relaxed, letting him touch what had been very explicitly forbidden to him before.

His lips ran along Feliciano's neck again, and he was pleasantly surprised to feel Feliciano reciprocating the attention, even giving Arthur's neck a few playful nips as encouragement and making him shiver. Arthur paused after all the kissing and teasing affection, pressing his forehead to the angel's and looking at him with half-lidded eyes, before murmuring for permission.

"May I…?"

And against better judgment, Feliciano said yes.

Sometime later after fumbling with lube and pleasuring Feliciano with his fingers until Feliciano's abdomen was painted with his own seed, Arthur slowly pressed inside, still holding tight to his lover, and Feliciano clung to him just as tightly, fingers curling against Arthur's upper back and nails digging slightly into the skin from feeling the strain of someone _inside_ him like this, so deep and full and warm, with a comforting weight of a person he loved on top of him.

He just wished he could say the words aloud.

_Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo_- the words rang like a mantra in Feliciano's head with each slow and careful thrust Arthur gave him, their bodies uniting in the most blissful way and making Feliciano's wanton moans fill the otherwise empty and silent room.

Feliciano was laying himself bare and exposed and vulnerable to Arthur, and the other man only spoiled him with slow, passionate kisses and kisses to his neck and the tight, secure hold of his arms, never once abusing the trust that had tentatively been placed back in him.

Every movement and thrust and kiss was for Feliciano's pleasure and enjoyment, not his own- and Arthur _gave and gave_ in the hopes that he could even begin to make up for all the ways he'd wronged the beautiful man beneath him.

Feliciano rewarded him with cries and whimpers of bliss, and arches of his back, calls of his name and the way his ankles locked behind Arthur's hips as Feliciano wrapped his legs tightly around them, keeping them close and together and making it _more_.

/

Arthur discovered that angels have impressive stamina and insatiable libidos and suddenly understood why they were called such amazing lovers, and he spoiled Feliciano rotten for four rounds until they were both finally too tired to move, reduced to soft pants for breath and soft, fleeting kisses, nuzzles and brushes of their noses and lips against each other's hair and skin, before they finally just settled, Arthur pressing his forehead down against Feliciano's.

"Ti amo," the angel finally said, voice soft and uncertain with a little quiver to it that meant either Feliciano was completely and utterly sated and weak from bliss, or that he was still afraid to say the words. (Perhaps it was a bit of both.)

The honey-amber eyes looked up at Arthur, gaze betraying his anxiety.

After so much, Feliciano didn't want to fight any more. The rage and aggression had long ago faded, his gentle demeanor returning as Arthur worked to earn back his warmth. Now, Feliciano just wanted to hold, and kiss, and love.

But he didn't want to be betrayed again, and the fear would likely stay for years.

Arthur took Feliciano's hand and laced their fingers together, before giving him yet another kiss.

His gaze was warm and loving, hopeful, and he murmured against Feliciano's lips, "I love you, too," before kissing him again, patient and understanding and willing to work to earn back every bit of Feliciano's time and trust.

He would prove that Feliciano didn't need to fear betrayal from him again.

The angel squeezed Arthur's hand and shut his eyes, overwhelmed, before he opened his eyes, giving a smile and a weak laugh.

"What is it?" Arthur asked in a hum, still brushing his lips over Feliciano's neck gently.

"My feathers are all over you."

"Are they?" Arthur said, shifting and looking at himself, trying to dust himself off- and indeed, Feliciano's feathers had come to rest on his hair and shoulders and back, thanks to the way Feliciano's flapping wings would end up shedding the feathers every time Feliciano reached a peak of pleasure. "Ah. They are. Messy, aren't you," he said with a deceivingly neutral tone, making Feliciano turn red as he caught the double entendre.

"All of the _mess_ was your fault," he huffed in return, feeling his tensions melt away as he started to feel that comfortable amiability and warmth return to their interactions, playful and at ease.

Things were peaceful, again.

Feliciano rolled them over so that he could rest atop Arthur, head resting over his heart so he could hear Arthur's heartbeat. Arthur's fingers found their way to his hair again, gently stroking and running through it, as Feliciano's wings moved and settled in a way that both of them were covered by the soft, warm down of them.

Arthur had a second chance, and he wasn't about to waste it.

"What will you do?" Arthur murmured, breaking the peaceful silence.

"Nn… I want to stay with you a bit longer," Feliciano murmured.

And it was a vague answer. A "bit" could mean days, it could also mean years. With the infinite lifespan an angel had, it was all a matter of perspective.

Feliciano moved to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur wrapped an arm around his waist and beneath his wings, holding on tight.

"Alright. You're always welcome here," Arthur murmured softly.

Feliciano smiled into Arthur's shoulder, cheeks pink and eyes warm.

"Don't worry. I'll remember to always come to this home once in a while, too."

Arthur smiled and watched a stray feather float down onto Feliciano's hair, and he relaxed.

"Then… I'll be here to welcome you home."


End file.
